


strike a pose

by Lizzen



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Crack, Dark Queen Rey, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 16:32:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen
Summary: “Change of plans,” her assistant says in the doorway of the workshop. “Snoke’s out, Kylo Ren’s the new bossman. And guess what,” he says. “He has aqueen.”It’s like the spill of ice water down her back, shocking and invigorating as the dawn. And she raises her head, looks at him with wide eyes, and opens her mouth: “Fuck me.”An Exploration of how the First Order’s tailors attend to Dark Queen Rey





	strike a pose

**Author's Note:**

> this is all c&a's fault. i am blameless in all of this.

Word spreads fast through the rank and file; troopers and techs. And it reaches the tailors just as they’re finishing a fabulous new robe for Supreme Leader Snoke.

“Change of plans,” her assistant says in the doorway of the workshop. “We have a new Supreme Leader.”

“We have a what now?” Klara absently replies, fluffing out the golden fabric to see how it sparkles in the light. _He’ll looooove it_ , she thinks. Dazzling haute couture to really impress.

“Snoke’s out, Kylo Ren’s the new bossman. And guess what,” he says.

Klara’s not paying attention, Klara’s staring at the robe in dismay, Klara’s heart is racing. All her hard work and it’s going to be black on black on black now. “What,” she says dully.

“He has a queen.”

It’s like the spill of ice water down her back, shocking and invigorating as the dawn. And she raises her head, looks at him with wide eyes, and opens her mouth: “Fuck me.”

*  
She immediately gets an audience as apparently the new Queen really does want something new to wear.

“--because I didn’t bring anything with me and this is a little dirty,” the Queen is saying sheepishly as Klara scans her for measurements. “What are you--” she adds as Klara does a careful scan of her head, wrist, hands, and chest area.

“We want to be thorough, your majesty,” Klara says primly and backs away. Snoke never let her get this close. She likes her, and really likes how easy it will be to adorn this gorgeous creature with such lavish designs that the galaxy has never seen before. “We will have a wardrobe for you by tomorrow, but for today--” And her assistant pulls out a full length dress close to her size with a plunging neckline. There’s also a matching tiara and diamond studded shoes. “Voila!”

The Queen’s nose wrinkles. “I was thinking more like cropped pants.”

Klara takes a step back. “Uh.” She says intelligently.

“Black is fine, though,” the Queen adds as if that’s _helpful_.

*  
“This is the most disappointing day of my life,” Klara says to her assistant as they march back to the workshop. “I wish I were dead.”

“There, there,” her assistant says. “You could be working for a Hutt warlord and his entourage. Every couturier’s nightmare.”

“But think of the stitching a bra for a dancer with six breasts,” Klara groans. “At least that’s a challenge.”

“You know,” her assistant says suddenly, stopping in his tracks. “We didn’t think about lingerie.”

“We--” and Klara lights up.

*  
(It’s Kylo Ren who arrives first to their room, finds seven packages on the bed. “What--” he says, opening one of them to find the most ridiculous silky thing he’s ever seen. “Do women actually wear this?” he asks the empty room, and puts it against his own body, curiously. Looks in the mirror. “Wait, women wear this,” he says with some excitement in his voice and immediately pictures Rey in it and almost loses his damn mind.)

*  
(Rey throws them all in the trash.)

*  
There’s to be an official announcement to the officers and an appropriate wardrobe is requested. Her assistant works busily on some black on black on black nonsense for the Supreme Leader as Klara stares at bolts of chiffon and satin. And considers the word “appropriate.”

It’s a green silk dress that she presents with a high neck and an emerald that can be seen from thousands of feet away. And a pair of flats (a concession).

The Queen looks at it cautiously, as if it might bite her. “I could just wear this,” she says, gesturing to her simple outfit of black on black on black.

“You could just wear stormtrooper gear,” Klara says with more acid than she meant. The Queen stiffens, but Klara continues. “This is important occasion. You are our new Queen.”

“I like the dress,” the Supreme Leader says, with a weak sort of tone.

“I hate you,” the Queen replies. “All of you.” And she reaches for the dress.

*  
Klara gets compliments for _weeks_.

*  
The Queen summons her to the training room, and Klara wonders if today’s the day that a Force User crushes her neck in a fit of rage. It might be the new pajama set she sent up yesterday; the one with a rather low neckline and very short shorts. Plus comfy slippers that matched.

“I need you to understand something,” the Queen says in greeting. She’s wearing some soft pants and a shirt and THE HEAVENS ABOVE know where she got them from. (Rey sent a squad to a local market with a list). “I need you to understand that I have to _move_ in my clothes.”

Klara sits patiently as the Queen works through her routine, kicking and jumping and looking generally powerful and skilled, etc etc whatever. It’s all very nice and Klara applauds politely; daydreams about getting her into something with sequins.

“See?” the Queen says.

And Klara nods her head. “Of course, your majesty.”

*  
(A box arrives for Rey the next morning.

  * Sleeveless shirt, softer than silk; black
  * Form fitting vest; black
  * Tight pants; black
  * Arm warmers; black and studded with sequins
  * Sensible shoes; blood red



Rey sighs.)

*  
“I have a mission to infiltrate the remains of the Resistance,” the Queen says. “I need a bounty hunter’s gear. Something discrete.”

Everyone, and I mean, _everyone_ knows about the Princess Leia’s little Boushh escapade so Klara has Questions about this mission but it’s not her job to do the Queen’s job.

She draws up a series of designs before landing on a rough and tumble look with the requisite helmet. Covering up the Queen’s lovely legs and arms is a travesty, but the mission has its parameters.

“Best of luck,” she says, after the presentation and winning a look of approval from the Queen. “Do come back, there’s the state dinner in a few weeks.”

The Queen stiffens. “There’s a what now?”

“The yearly dinner,” she says. “Hasn’t the Supreme Leader told you? I’ve been gathering diamonds for months now for your dress.”

“I hope I die on this mission,” the Queen mutters and angrily takes the boots out of Klara’s hand.

*  
The Supreme Leader asks for crimson to be woven into his formal attire for the dinner, and Klara spit takes. “The fuck?” she says looking at the request and immediately calls for a staff meeting.

“I need the best of the best working on this,” she says. “This is our CHANCE to make a DIFFERENCE in his fashion. For all our sakes, I need something that ROCKS HIS WORLD. ”

They work for twelve hours straight on it and when it’s complete, they put it on a model and Klara nearly swoons. “He’ll be so handsome that she’ll forget what she’s wearing.

*  
(She does. Her silks sigh when she moves and the diamonds are so many that they tinkle against each other but:

“You clean up good,” she tells him and his cheeks burn.)

*  
Klara’s eating poptarts and watching vids in her room when there’s a knock at the door. “Enter,” she says and the Queen is there, in her diamond dress and looking a little drunk in the doorway. She’s a vision of aesthetic perfection.

“I wanted to tell you in person,” the Queen says. “You do good work.”

“I live to serve, your majesty,” Klara says and she means it, with all her heart.

The Queen smiles, it’s a beautiful thing. And that’s all the praise she needs.

“Soooo, when,” Klara asks casually. “When do I get to dress a little First Order baby?” and the Queen shudders, slams her fist on the button to close the door.

*  
“You won’t BELIEVE this,” her assistant says, sliding into the room. “The Queen was a Resistance plant ALL ALONG, so you better stay out of the Supreme Leader’s way for, like, _seven years_.”

Klara blinks, looks down at the cropped pants in which she’s carefully sewing aubergine swirls for flair. “Well, shit.”

#


End file.
